


The Bible Forgot to Mention Us

by Blue_Jay



Series: Remove All the Pieces + Prompts [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angels, Demons, Episode: s01e22 All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2, Episode: s05e01 Sympathy for the Devil, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Episode: s07e21 Reading is Fundamental, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, F/M, Hell, Hurt Sam Winchester, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Meg Masters, Sacrifice, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 05, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08, Sibling Incest, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Jay/pseuds/Blue_Jay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demons are not supposed to kiss the would-be Boy King who's in love with his brother. They're also not supposed to want to again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bible Forgot to Mention Us

**Author's Note:**

> This...oh god, this is a request from a friend. I also got a request on tumblr (due to my writing of the Remove All Pieces series because that ended up more request-heavy than I meant) to AU that UA and switch the wincest to Meg/Sam. I may end up doing that. 
> 
> This is not that story.
> 
> And, one last thing: some of the dialogue is different come the season seven/season eight episodes mentioned, where Meg gets kind of OOC (ie, Reading is Fundamental). There's also a scene change in Goodbye Stranger.

**The Pit.**

It starts in Hell.

She wants Sam on her side and there are better ways to break him than placing him under Alistair's knife. Father would like the idea if he was here, but he's still topside with the accidental winner of what he called his Miss America Pageant. Jake should be here, but the Winchesters are too self-righteous for their own good so she needs to convince him in the more unconventional way even though she really hates being in Hell; once the other demon is gone, she unties him and pulls him up so he's sitting. Explains to him with a smirk to answer his confusion that he can't leave but she's not planning on keeping strapped down, either.

After a moment's suspicious pause, he asks, "Why?"

Most demons are into the whole lying thing, but she never found the point. Often times the truth is more painful. "Daddy Dearest wants you to be the Boy King," she answers, using her knife to pick out the dirt under her host's nails. "I'm not playing Jigsaw on your pretty, pretty soul."

"I lost," he says with a frown. "Pretty sure that says I'm not too hot on the whole ruling Hell idea. Besides, what happened to wanting to see me break?"

She quirks a brow and already knows it suits her host's face. She's more comfortable in this one - some aspiring actress who ran off to Hollywood at the empty promise of a man who said he could get her work on a set and had dreams to travel the world - than she was in Meg Master. Something about being brunette over blonde works for her. "Do you really just want to sit here and play Miss Mary Mack with me for all eternity?"

"If that's what it takes," he says, mouth set in a straight line. 

"Sounds like a pretty boring way to spend forever." Sam just shrugs. "You don't seem all that surprised that you're in Hell," she adds. "You haven't done anything to warrant entrance into eternal damnation, after all."

Even before he says anything, she realizes this is something involving her father again because he takes the fun out of everything - and down here, in this land of piles of bones instead of plants and screams instead of music or even crap cable, you have to take fun where you can get it. Sam, very honestly, says it's not much of a surprise when you've been having people in your dreams telling you where you're heading all your life. Besides, he continues, I'm fucking my brother. Pretty sure that damning right there.

Oh in the name of Lucifer, humankind's misinterpretation of consensual sibling incest will be the death of her. The _number_ of times someone will come down and assume  _that's_ the reason they've ended up in Hell rather than oh, let's see, murdering your child in case there's a defect is ridiculous. Rolling her eyes, she tells him, "That's harmless. Earth is the only place people give a shit about that sort of thing."

He blinks. "Seriously?" She goes to say something but if possible, the kid looks even more miserable when he adds, "So I'm literally just here because I have demon blood. Awesome."

"Hell's not so bad once you get off the rack," she lies and wishes she was topside. Father got to have all the fun and she's stuck here, playing nice with the maybe Boy King because no one actually  _wants_ that Jake kid. It was always meant to be Sam; everyone else was just filler. "Less  _Saw_ for all eternity and more Stalinist Russia."

"Oh, yes, because that's so comforting." He's miserable. Completely, utterly miserable and not the least bit scared. She remembers very little of the time before she became a demon. All she has a fuzzy memory of Alistair he planned to bleed 'it' out. Then she became his student and went up to Earth and hadn't been down until Bobby Singer flung her back home sweet home. 

"Eternal boredom will end if you just -"

"I said  _no_ , Meg."

They don't talk for three days.

 

 

Apparently Sam is a stubborn enough bastard that he can last three days without a hint of conversation. Meg not so much.

"You're being a brat," she says bluntly, finally breaking the silence, and Sam moves to look at her incredulously. "We're both stuck here unless Saint Dean finds a way to get you topside or you see reason, so we might as well be civil."

He raises an eyebrow. "You're joking," he says. "Civil. Right. Because sticking me to a rack is completely civil."

"Better off than most souls," she reminds him even though it doesn't take long to drown out the screaming here. Now she barely notices. "Better off than your own father, even."

"He doesn't belong here."

"Well, he made a deal.  _You're_ the one who doesn't, in all technicality, belong, you overgrown puppy," she says. "Besides, he was one step away from ending up here in the first place." This gets the reaction she wanted, the kid's sullen expression changing to full out horrified. Baby boy fights with his daddy and still can't imagine this punishment for him. Or anyone. Why he's the successor is completely beyond her comprehension. On the other hand, better him than Lilith and Meg gave up her right when she stayed mostly topside for seventeen hundred years.  With an overdramatic sigh, she adds, "Physical abuse, neglect of children unable to take care of themselves, emotional manipulation leading to the development of a chemical imbalance - which is you, by the way - and -"

He interrupts, "Okay, okay I get the point. Still...Dad wasn't, you know, a  _bad_ person. My mom being killed, having to watch her die - that can make anyone go crazy. And I'm not...I don't have a chemical imbalance, okay?"

Really, he's got demon blood running through his veins and still manages to be unnecessarily selfless. She doesn't understand it, this hang up on being a "good person." Hell might suck, but creating chaos topside? That's art. "Yeah, you do, kid," she answers. "And that's why you'll break."

Sam crosses his arms, and turns his back to her. Fucking child.

 

 

One day she tells him, "I get it, you know," even though she doesn't know how to act understanding.

For the first time he looks at her with something inching towards curiosity. He's practically Curious George topside, so she's mildly surprised it's taken so long. "About what?" he asks.

"About your family," she answers and glances around, hoping he doesn't notice her sudden nervousness, because the last thing she needs is for her father to suddenly pop down for a visit. "Being the daughter of the King of Hell? He's a tyrant and being family isn't as important down here. That's why so many of us want you to take the reins. You've got the juice for it. If you'd said yes, let me help you figure shit out, you could've been great. Better than Jake, anyway."

"Why? If I'm an antichrist or whatever, that makes him one too. And Dean'll kill him if he has to, your dad definitely. Get someone else."

"You aren't  _an_ antichrist," she says, not knowing how to explain it because she hadn't been down in Hell for so long that she only knows about half of what she should. "You're  _the_ antichrist. Destiny's calling, Golden Boy."

Though he's not openly saying "no" anymore, she knows she's not any closer to making him break. She doesn't know if she ever will be either. Making sure your chosen one goes into hunting? Yeah, brilliant idea. Father's a real Einstein sometimes. Sam says, "My brother...when he dies, he's not coming here, right?"

The thought of Dean fucking Winchester ending up downstairs is practically laughable. "He's got a pre-booked ticket upstairs," she tells him, amused. "Hunters get away with murder because they 'fight evil.' I think that's rude though. Evil is subjective."

He looks down at his hands a nods, looking like he hadn't heard her last statement. Even she doesn't believe it, though - almost every religion in the world has demons and they're so much worse than people describe. At the same time, humans can be pretty damn bad too; last she checked, her species isn't so hot on genocide. After World War II ended, every torturer in Hell was clamoring for a piece of Hitler. Maybe she'll try to hit up him next when Sam's brother gets him back up or he breaks (something tells her it'll be the first one, those codependent freaks). 

Sam curls up, knees to his chest. "How are demons made, Meg?"

"Well, we were all human once," she answers, wishing she didn't have to explain it. For the first time in ages, she decides to wake up her host, but shuts her down immediately. Headaches aren't fun and Marilynn screaming is enough to give this body one. "Before you ask, I don't remember who I was. That's what happens; you get tortured, and lose track of who you are."

Obviously uncomfortable now, he asks, "So I'll become a demon."

She smirks. "No, Sammy baby, you'll become a king."

 

 

They talk a lot, after that. About nothing in particular, but she has to force herself to be nice to him - or as nice as she can be, anyway - because he needs to be on their side. He's actually somewhat refreshing too, as most demons are fucking idiots and humans usually not much better, but he's a dead hunter, Ivy League boy and he can hold a conversation.

It's in the middle of a talk about what living in Victorian London as a murderous prostitute (one of her personal favorites) was like when he suddenly asks, "What made you decide to stay on Earth?"

"Hell's Hell," she answers because it's a phrase they all use, "even for demons. Alistair, the demon you first saw, shaped me. Started working on my own, went topside when I'd been around long enough, and just decided to stay there. Once you're in a position of power, the place isn't so bad -" She's trying not to lie but sometimes it's unavoidable. "- but my father's annoying. Besides, more fun to fuck with humans than other demons."

He nods, looking away at her again. For the first time a week ago, she got him to crack a smile and she's trying to pretend that didn't make her feel...wrong. "I don't know," he says. "Now I kind of feel bad for letting Bobby shoot you back down here. I shouldn't." 

It's a real effort to mask a smile of her own because it's  _working_ , just like she knew it would. For most souls, it takes torture to crack them, but for an undeserving one like Sam? Easiest way to break is through kindness. He's not exactly used to it. "I was back up in three days," she tells him and neglects to mention that he father was pissed enough that she was close to getting thrown back on the rack. Not that it was her fault that John Winchester overpowered him because Dean's got fucking superpowers for something, but he decided it was better to take it out on her anyway. "I grabbed onto this fine little lady and took her for a spin before snatching up you. That was revenge, by the way."

"Seriously? Not an order?"

Father wasn't too happy about that either, but he doesn't need to know that. "Not at all," she says. "I just wanted to see if your brother really had the balls to shoot you. And, I'm sorry but worship him or not, the fact that your dad told Dean to kill you is pretty cold. Honestly, I don't understand why you don't agree with me."

"I don't get off on torture, I guess," he answers irritably and by now his stubbornness is just so uselessly adorable. "Why is this place still packed with demons? I thought Jake would be on board with the whole ruling Hell plan."

This is the first time she's really heard him trash talk someone, and it catches her off guard. Quickly regaining her composure, she says, "Time down here's been accelerated. For us it's been a month but it hasn't even been twenty-four hours up there. You know, if  _you_ were to do the whole ruling thing -"

"Just shut up." And she does, only because she's making progress and doesn't want to reverse it. Sam doesn't apologize. "You have any idea what's going on up there?"

She shakes her head. "Demons aren't some super computer or bee's nest. I'm here with you, which means I know about as much as you do."

With a sigh, he flops back and watches one of the lightning storms. As much as she hates Hell, it isn't really as ugly as the Bible makes it seem. "I miss the sky. Sometimes me and Dean would pull over onto the shoulder if it was the middle of the night and spread out blankets on the hood of the car."

"How very whimsical."

For the second time, he cracks a smile, dimples and everything and maybe his tarnished soul really is a little beautiful. Not that his mind is though. If she were human, that time she spent in his head would've given her nightmares. His childhood mixed with the general effects of having demon blood in a human body fucked him up good.

"Very kind of you, Meg."

Deciding to test how far she's actually pushed him, she reaches over to touch his hand. He doesn't flinch away and after a moment, wraps his fingers around hers.

This is absolutely perfect.

 

 

Demons are supposed to be conniving and cruel for the sake of being evil. They are not, under any branch of the imagination, supposed to get attached because that's  _positive_ and they've got nothing positive left in them. Or, at least they shouldn't. 

Meg's pretty sure what's going on has some human terminology. She just doesn't remember it.

She's got a knife in her hand and feels nervous and guilty along with the sadistic excitement instead of relief. Alistair's going to come by and do his rounds soon and logical decision or not, she did snatch Sam right out from under him because of an unofficial agreement so she needs to get him to bleed enough to make it look ages old. The kid's looking up at her, terrified, and in the light from the fires glinting off the metal of the blade, his eyes look almost gold. He doesn't bother to hold back the screams when she cuts into him and even though she explained why, she prays to Lucifer that this won't unravel anything.

When the older demon walks past, he only pauses long enough to glare. Sam can't see him and she keeps up longer than she promised because his beauty is amplified by his pain. 

By the time she stops and puts away the knife, his whole soul is shaking from the strain. Absolutely  _breathtaking._ "It's over?" he asks weakly, crossing his arms over his carved up chest. When she says it is, a few tears run down his untouched, bloody cheeks. She couldn’t stand the idea of harming his face. "Thank God - or, s-something. Th-think I've given up on the whole God thing."

"He's real," she says and lies down next to him. His face is still twisted in pain, the blood not yet dried, and he looks like something so much more than a sullied human who still prayed to a Heaven that could never accept him. "Or was, anyway. Angels are real too. My father is a Fallen one."

"A Fallen angel?" She nods and reaches up a quivering hand to wipe away the tears. "O-oh. Great. Finally found out my brother's wrong and I can't even r-rub it in his face."

She tilts her head down a little and her temple brushes against his shoulder. His blood is only slightly less sulfuric than hers. "They aren't all they're cracked up to be if my father's anything to go by. Think more hardcore Catholicism than  _Angels in the Outfield._ "

"Really?" Again, she nods. "That's really...disappointing."

"Not really," she tells him. "It just means everything screwed. Demons, angels, humans, gods - we're all one giant universe of fuck ups vying for attention like children in a burning orphanage. Nowhere's better than anywhere else." She doesn't like this, talking about God and angels because demons, like humans, have their own horror stories, so she decides to change the subject with, "You should say yes. Then I can bring you to London."

He smiles, closed-mouthed, and shakes his head. "Can't believe you remember that. You and your unicorns, Your Highness."

"Your Highness?"

"You'd make a better Queen of Hell than I'd be as the Boy King."

Of all the weird, unexpected things he's said, this is the most surprising. She stops before she can say thank you because demons are not sincere, but accidently slips out instead, "Red's a good look for you."

He stares. "That's creepy."

"What can I say? I like my boys bloody."

"You're so fucking weird."

"Says the antichrist talking to the demon who just tortured him on the rack."

He shuts up and she feels unreasonably pleased at getting in the final word.

 

 

Most of the time, when someone makes a deal to bring a person back to life, it doesn't involve dragging the soul up rather than down. Since there's no real standard procedure, Meg's the one who gets the privilege of delivering Sam herself. 

He looks up at her, confused, when she comes back. It's the first time she's left. "Big brother booked you a ticket back home," she tells him, scowling because she doesn't want him to leave but deals are deals, and drags him off the rack. "It's my job to get you to the reaper."

"Booked me a ticket?" he asks, confused and after the past few months in Hell, the demon blood has gotten more concentration, making his soul darker than most of the others in this area. "Meg, what did he do?"

"Kissed one of those red-eyed whores," she answers and leads him by the elbow, making sure he doesn't brush any of the prisons because he can open them as easy as she can. "But hey, you've got ten years to figure out how to break the deal, so I wish you luck."

His eyes are wider than usual, looking every bit like a terrified puppy. "Dean made a  _deal?_ "

"Are you really all that surprised?" He doesn't answer. "Yeah, thought so. Make sure to enjoy all the bunnies and summers before you make your way back down."

Though she's making an active attempt not to look at him, she can feel his eyes on her. "You too, right?" he says. "Now that I'm gone, you can go back topside."

It's fucking ridiculous, that he's getting shoved back to his brother and surrogate father and still asking if she can do it too. "That's the plan."

"If you come find me, I'll make sure Dean doesn't kill you. We could - I don't know, help Lilith not kill you or something. I owe you for not torturing me, which is a statement that really shouldn't exist."

"No point," she says. "Once a deal's made and a soul returns to its body, the person doesn't remember. We're going back to being Batman and Catwoman like nothing ever happened."

She hopes that hurts more than her because demons aren't supposed to get like this in the first place. Sam says, "Meg, you know I'm - well, being the Boy King's still not happening and the general family objective is still to kill your dad, so maybe you should go for it. I mean, Hell's kind of Hell and all but someone has to rule it, you said."

Then suddenly they're here, right outside the Gate where the reaper will be waiting at the edge of and he knows it too. The air smells like grass and tastes like sunshine. It's a spontaneously, spectacularly bad decision when she reaches an arm up behind his head, fingers twisting in his hair, and pulls his down for a kiss. Last time they did this he was tied to that post and considerably less uncomfortable on his end.

When they break apart, Sam's eyes comically wide again, she tells him, "Happy birthday, Sammy baby," and shoves him straight into the reaper's arms.

 

 

**Lilith**

Barely three hours Hell-time after she gives Sam back to his brother, she goes topside too. Wanting to stay as far away from the oncoming disaster in Wyoming as she possibly can, she makes her way out into the New Zealand countryside and wakes up her post. You've always wanted to live here, she says, heading into Wellington, so just tell me where to go. Life's about to go to shit and if Sam and Dean succeed, she's getting dragged back down. When she gave up her right to stick out up here, she hadn't actually thought her father was going to die and Lilith would ascend rule. 

Marilynn is exhausted to the point she doesn't even ask to be on her own anymore.  _Can you get something from a cafe?_

So she does. There's one on the corner, the college boy behind the counter eyeing her figure and demons can read minds to a point, so Meg knows he's the type of kid to sleep with any girl who's interested. She can't help but think Sam wasn't like that, but Marilynn points out he's fucking his brother so she answers, I'm from Hell. Monogamy and relationship loyalty don't really matter. Are you seriously saying you wouldn't jump him?

So far she hasn't really talked to Marilynn, or at least not as much as her other long term hosts. Sometimes she wonders if she was like Sam and did nothing all that bad to end up in Hell because she genuinely enjoys holding conversations with her meatsuits outside of screaming competitions and maniacal laughter. No one's ever told her why she ended up on the rack. As she takes a seat at one of the open outside tables, a sandwich and cup of coffee in front of her, Marilynn asks,  _So what made you decide to chill at my top choice, must-go city in the world?_

She doesn't exactly know why, really, but apparently spending four months trying to force Stockholm Syndrome onto the failed Boy King caused...what's it called? Lima Syndrome? Something like that. Either, apparently it changes a person - or demon, or something with a thought process, fuck if she knows. 

You have a friend here who said swing by any time, right? She figures it's safer to dodge the question. 

_You're dropping me soon, aren't you? I get to go back to being myself again?_

If I don't die and crawl out of Hell, I'm using your ass again so don't get cocky, chickadee. 

_Why? You want your boyfriend to recognize you?_

Don't think I still won't kill you. I can possess a corpse.

Marilynn stops complaining and gives her the friend's address.

 

 

A day later her father's death has spread down to Lilith and the bitch's favorite lackey finds her. She doesn't fit her vessel very well, some redhead Kiwi about thirty and a business woman, if her outfit's anything to go by. The streets are deserted but she follows Ruby into a back alleyway anyway. 

Ruby tells her, "The demons down in Hell already having a nickname for you. 'The Queen without a Crown.' Has a nice ring to it, right?"

"Hilarious. Banishment or chew toy? You know how much Mommy and I get along."

Expectantly, the other demon's face twists into an unattractive expression that's the patented  _you're being disrespectful, you petulant child_ because Meg's young compared to her. Compared to others, she's on the older side but there's a whole faction who sighed in relief when she decided to stick topside and never come down. Fucked up royally on the last bit. "Well, you know how much Lilith loves you, princess," Ruby answers, crossing her arms. "Sorry but can't risk you killing our rightful queen and she's much more creative than anyone you've ever dealt with."

She lifts a brow. "High praise," she says. "Don't think Ali would agree to that, you mindlessly head case."

"Rebellious demons aren't as well received as Fallen angels."

"Just get it over with." Ruby comes nearer and Meg doesn't back away when she adds, "But when I get back out - and oh, don't think I won't because I'll tear Lilith to shreds if I have to - I promise you, I'll grab the Winchesters and I will  _end_ you."

Without answering because obviously Meg  _must_ be joking, Ruby her fingers into her mouth and tugs. Before she's out completely, Marilynn manages,  _I'm insane for saying this but you better not fucking die._

As she's shot back down to Hell, Meg can't help but be flattered.

 

 

**The Apocalypse**

Lucifer comes to find her himself because he needs a general. She'd gotten herself out the same day and he heals her battered form with a touch. He explains to her, as he brings her back to Wellington, how it went down. For the most part she is positively fucking elated, but another piece of her is downright insulted that Ruby not only broke him, but died before Meg could kill her. Considering Sam had the power all along, it wouldn't have been too hard to get him to kick start this (accidently, of course, because  _no, of course she didn't know_ ) without getting him addicted to demon blood, making him betray Dean (obviously Ruby misunderstood the full extent of their relationship if she went that route) and, oh yeah,  _getting killed in the end._

Really, she'd (mostly) broken down Sam in four months and all she did was (mostly) tell the truth. 

Like she said, she slips back into Marilynn when the girl's on break from work at the same cafe Meg brought her too ages ago. Don't complain, she says to her host. The Apocalypse just started and this is about to save your life.

_The Apocalypse? You're kidding._

She explains as she zips back to America and gathers a crew to possess Bobby Singer and lead them as she was instructed, but it comes out as more of a rant than anything else. 

Sam, as it turns out, isn't there when they arrive. Carter, the low level idiot doing the possession, fails at killing Dean which is ridiculous (she insists to Marilynn that she didn't expect or mean for this to happen to the point the girl finds it almost funny), and gets himself killed. Stellar work, Lilith's finest. When Thing One gets his knife in his head, Meg goes to zap away as she was told if the other demons "failed at following orders," but get stops when Thing Two enters the room. He looks older than before, somehow even more beautiful, and as she forces him against the wall, she still can't help but think he looks better in red. It doesn't help that she's pissed at him for falling for Ruby's mind games.

She smiles. "Hiya, Sammy," she says and it's halfway to real. "You miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you."

" _Meg?_ "

The recognition throws her off enough that Sam manages a hit to her head. Marilynn yells at her to take better care of her body and Meg snaps at her to shut up  as she knocks Sam to the ground, more pissed off than she was before because she can  _feel_ it - the foreign blood more amped than before, skin too hot at the touch, Ruby's blood staining the pants of his jean from when Dean ganked her. Her hand twists in his hair, his head yanked back. Fucking Lilith, taking what didn't belong to her and going about it all wrong. "Not too easy without those super special demon power, huh, Sammy?"

Then she hits him in the head, hard enough to nearly knock him out and stands because she has no intention of killing the boy. Dean's got the knife in his hand, moving close and she does the only thing she can think of and smokes out. If that idiot hurts Marilynn before she can slip back in, he's dead, sentiment be damned.

 

 

She can't find them on her own, which pisses her off, and Bobby's house is too heavily warded for her to even try to get any closer, so sets the fruit basket (it's from Edible Arrangements, bar the honeydew) right outside the porch. There's a card with it too that reads: 

_Sammy baby,_

_Thank you and all that. Also for killing Lilith. You cheated on me with Ruby but I guess I can forgive you._

_Don't worry, you're still my favorite boy in red._

_Missing you from downstairs,_

_the Queen without a Crown_

_p.s. You owe me a trip to Europe_

Since she has nothing better to do while Lucifer gets acquainted with his vessel, she sits hidden in the shadow and waits for someone to find it. Besides, she missed being topside and in a host so she can breathe in real air. Hell is like acid, Mexico City on steroids, but South Dakota in April is cool and sharp. Marilynn's jacket is off and she sits on top of a car roof, thinking about the story Sam told her of the nights he and his brother would spread out a blanket on some back road and watch the sky. She imagines dragging him out to some field in the dead of night in the middle of winter where his body temperature would plummet and his smile would crack his lips with bloody lines and the heat of Hell would be far, far behind them.

 

 

Six hours later, it's Dean who finds it and calls out for Sam without bringing it in. He looks like an overgrown puppy (note: real puppy, not a hellhound puppy because those could make even a demon cry) as usual, hugging himself around the chest. His eyes and mouth are tight with pain and he's not looking directly at his brother. Must be having some trouble in paradise, then. She wonders if Dean knows he's one of the reasons his baby boy is so fucked up. 

Though they're far away, she can still hear him say, "Any explanation?" when he pushes the card into his brother's hand. 

Sam stares at her letter blankly. "It's from Meg," he says. "Or, I think."

"She said she'd give you a fruit basket. Didn't know she was being serious." He pauses, then adds, "How'd you know?"

"I don't get most of it," he answers, rubbing his eye, "but when she was in my head trying to get me to rule Hell or whatever, she said we could go to England and France. She's the only one that makes sense. Aren't these things like fifty dollars?"

"Doubt a demon cares about cost."

She leaves before she can find out what they do with the basket. 

 

 

Her intention in Carthage was to separate the group, get Sam with Lucifer alone to give consent or at least start the convincing process, but not kill anyone. Death meant Sam growing even less trusting and that wasn't the purpose. Odds of him saying yes were lower after that. 

But then Jo got in the way and both the Harvelles did a _stunning_ reenactment of that hospital explosion in  _The Dark Knight_ to kill off her hellhounds and Meg can't stop thinking about how everyone gets in the way. Dean getting in the way she can deal with; everyone else is just kind of unnecessary fluff. And this death - this setback - irritates her, so she goes to report back to Lucifer. He won't be one hundred percent thrilled either since she explained what it takes to break Sam Winchester and this isn't it, but it's not irreversible. For now she'll burn off some steam by tormenting the baby angel, she figures. She doubts that can make today any worse and the only thing that could possibly make it good again would be the miracle of Sam saying yes. 

Turns out that's not much fun either. Hearing Crowley and Lucifer mentioned in the same sentence is practically blasphemy and she knows this...Castiel is just trying to rile her up, but it still gets to her when he says the Apocalypse will end with all the demons dying. Father used to tell her about angels and the Fallen are not supposed to be like this. Cast out from Heaven and still walking right up to the ring of holy fire to tell Lucifer he won't  _let_ him get Sam? Seems suspicious to her. Apparently he can't even gank demons anymore, she finds out. Fucking useless. At least she has -

Holy fire isn't supposed to hurt enough to make her scream. It does anyway.

 

 

On the same day Sam jumps and kills both himself and Lucifer, Meg finds out Castiel was telling the truth. It takes her all of a second to realize she's still a loyalist. 

So, he wanted to start fresh. Good for him.

She just wishes she'd have been able to see the world after it was done everything was beautiful again.

 

 

**The Aftermath**

Crowley takes over Hell. It should've been Sam. It should've been her.

Making herself known now would be the same as with Lilith so she spends nearly a year hiding in Marilynn's skin. The girl knows she's there and they talk (she says it's nice to finally have someone to rant to), but Meg gives up bodily control. This puts her under the radar enough to last eleven months before any of the King of Hell's new army of loyal cannon fodder find her. Crowley sees her as the biggest competition, which she would be if she bothered plotting since Lucifer fell back into his prison. Technically, it's still her right to rule but after squatting for so long, she doesn't exactly have the body count of followers she needs to stage a coup.

She's sleeping in Marilynn's body when the demon comes, someone she only recognizes because she's the one who shaped him on the rack. Roger McEwen, forty-six, made a deal to save his six-year-old's life when the village medicine man couldn't cure him. He's got a gun, and shoots her in the chest. Meg doesn't wake up until the bullet enters and Marilynn screams. 

As she wrestles back control, she shuts Marilynn down so she can keep the girl alive and comes face to face with Rodger. His meatsuit's young, looks about twenty. The gun still trained on her head. She scowls and stands. "I like this body," she says mildly, adjusting the shirt. "Not very nice of you to ruin it."

"Think of it as a wakeup call," answers the demon, not lowering the gun. "Boss wants a recall on your ass."

Considering that she can feel Marilynn dying inside of her, she's not exactly in the mood for demonic banter. Instead she lifts her arm and throws the bastard against the wall. "Well, tell your  _boss_ ," she says, snatching the gun out of the demon's immobile hand, "that next time he wants to drag the rightful heir back down to Hell, he should send more than one little low-life, got it?"

Roger growls before smoking out. Meg closes her eyes and ends up in a hospital storage to steal enough supplies to fix up the body. She doesn't like being alone in her head.

 

 

Four days later she's alone in her head but rounds up three followers. There are thousands of Lucifer loyalists spread throughout the globe, but most aren't in America and those who are lack any form of survival skills. Killing Crowley is her end game, but for now keeping alive (or Hell's equivalent, anyway) is her main priority.

So she exists. She runs. She talks too much and spies on hunters for news and tortures other demons topside to get out her frustrations. Her followers are all idiots in comparison and she half hopes they die but at the same time knows there's safety in numbers. She wishes she'd taken Sam's advice. She wishes Sam had said yes to Lucifer. She wishes she had Sam. Even Dean would do, but he's off the hunting radar. It was the first thing she checked. 

Still, she isn't surprised when she finds out Sammy baby's back to life and Big Brother's slipped away from the American Dream. And, of course, looking for them is the only  _reasonable_ course of action, so that's what she does. 

 

 

Sam's there, but Sam's not Sammy baby anymore. Dean knows it too and so does Castiel. Castiel who she kisses because  _needs_ Sam to remember. Hell-ified or not, life's been shit and she's alone in her own head and on the run without no one left and can't even smoke out of this goddamn body. The Not-Sam is watching her, later, after Rodger tore her up in the one way she never did him inside that new meatsuit of his. He was the one who handed her clothes over. Meg's relieved for the first time to be alone in her own head. She wonders if this version of him remembers.

She wonders if she wants him too.

This is your fault, she wants to scream at him because she's alone and just had a knife shoved into all the wrong place. This is your fault and you should've done your job at least the second time and you should've remembered me and kept me safe from Crowley and let me save you and your brother from Lilith and fuck you for making me confused. She wants to scream all of this as she ties him down and tortures him until he goes back to being  _her_ Sam - hers and Dean. She wants to carve him through, maybe with his brother helping, all the way down into what makes him tick and  _fix him._ Sew him up so he's good as new. Maybe even kiss him so he knows she still wouldn't mind him being the king to her queen. That damn fucking unicorn and Dean can join too because she has no complaints against threesomes with anyone hot. But none of that can happen until she finishes screaming about how it's his fault she's lost in world she's supposed to know, running from the demon who stole her crown.

When they find Crowley, it's more of a relief than simply giving him what he deserves. Torturing the false King is the best catharsis she can think of.

She accepts the knife Dean holds out, suspicious of their trust but seeing no other option. "Okay, you know what?" she says because she's always hated being called a whore, and starts to shrivel his insides. She adds, "The best tortures never get their hands dirty," glancing up at Dean because she can't look at Sam. Not while she's doing this. "Sam wants a word with you."

Crowley coughing, in pain. This is lovely. "What can I do for you, Sam?"

"You know damn well. I want my soul back."

Now she looks at him, trying to hold in her surprise. She says, "And here I thought you just grew some balls, Sam," and means it even if she wasn't one hundred percent okay with the switch around. But now it makes sense, pieces of the over complicated jigsaw puzzle falling into place. It's Sam's bright, tainted soul that makes him beautiful.

He looks straight back and rolls his eyes before turning his attention away. She's supposed to be more important than Crowley. "Well?"

"Meg." Dean's not focused on her either, but that's all right. Even though she gave up her succession, she wants it back and she plans to take it. 

She steps forward, does it again outside the circle and can't help but smile. "I can't," the fake who's more of a whore than she is says.

"Can't or won't?" Sam asks and though she can't see him, he imagines there's a glare somewhere on his face. Pain and smiles suit him better than anger. 

"I said can't you mop-headed lumberjack. I was lucky to get this much of you out."  _Out._ Oh, fuck. So much for his needing back his soul. She hasn't thought of the Cage in a while. "Going back in there for the sloppy bits? No way. I'm good, but those two in there? Forget it."

And she wonders, almost vaguely, if Michael or Lucifer is worse. He answers, "How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't, but it doesn't change anything. I'm telling you. Sam, why do you want the thing back?" There's a pause where none of them say anything before Crowley continues, "Satan's got one juicy source of entertainment in there. I'd swallow a rag off a bath house floor before I touched that soul. Unless you  _want_ to be a drooling mess."

She half turns, not wanting to actually look at him right now. She's not sure who she hates more - Sam for jumping, Crowley for screwing up everything, Dean for not cornering the dick until now, maybe even Lucifer for doing Hell knows what to that pretty, pretty soul down below - but she knows it's nothing some cathartic torture won't solve. She says, "I hate to say it, Sam, but he's -"

"Yeah, I get that. Thanks. He's all yours."

This is Sam, Sam thanking her and turning it over to her and Crowley at her feet. If this isn't as close to Heaven as the real Queen of Hell can get, she doesn't know what is. 

But Dean's not through with it yet, and protests. She loses track after that but they promise to let her out and she might not even trust the current Sam all that much but dammit, she has to try. So she enters the circle with a smile, knife in her hand, and prepares. 

Everything goes a little crooked, after that.

 

 

**The Mental Ward**

Demons can be undeniably the dumbest race in all four planes of existences sometimes. Spilling to her, the exiled rebel who has willingly worked with two living horror stories and an angel, that Sammy Winchester is in an asylum for hallucinating the Devil while surrounded by demonic orderlies is just further proof. Idiots, the lot of them.

Sam's there, in the psychiatry ward just like the demon said. He hasn't slept in days and Dean isn't there. She  _told_ them getting his soul back would do this, even though she's guessing it's actually been in its rightful place for a while. He's staring off at nothing and flinching with his brain too addled for her to even pick out pieces of what's going on. Even though another demon could come in any minute and she has nothing to gank them with, she takes a seat on the edge of the bed and pokes his side. He jumps, but his eyes focus on her.

With a smile she says, "Hiya, Sammy baby," and figures it's good that at least he hasn't started screaming.

He blinks. "Meg?"

"Got yourself into a mess here, didn't you?" she asks, crossing her arms. "And you know how much I love saying I told you so."

"You're...not real."

The smile slides straight off her face. Of course, she expected this but that doesn't make it any better. "Get your head fixed, then we'll talk," she tells him, standing. "I'm gonna go get Saint Dean for you, got it? If miracle boy can get you out Hell, he can get you out of this."

"Europe," Sam says, frowning. "You're not - you said I owe you a trip to, uh, London?"

When she goes to touch him, he flinches away  _hard._ She leaves without saying anything else.

 

 

She finds out about the healer Emmanuel before she locates Dean and decides that's a good place to start. She'll grab him first, threaten a psychic until she gets a pinpoint on Big Brother's location, and hand the healer over under the grounds she sticks around for protection, which she desperately needs. The only reason she found out about Sam in the first place is because Crowley's gofers are closing in. 

Still, she's not particularly surprised that Dean gets to him first, but the fact that he's an amnesiac Castiel married to a wife in some suburban dream house does it for her. She follows them for a while, not wanting to let herself show until she knows she's not going to see the edge of that knife. It also stings, a little, the realization that Clarence won't remember her either. As if dealing with the King of Hell on her ass wasn't bad enough. She's not used to being forgotten and doesn't like the feeling.

Then, the store. Killing the two demons are more satisfying than it should be and Dean not slicing her up is added bonus. And she doesn't say it, but she's not really into the idea of him dying either. The three of them, the Winchesters specifically - well, she doesn't like it when other people touch her things.

 

 

Outside the ward and now Dean's an indecisive asshole. It doesn't take all that long for her to explode on him and alert Clarence what the truth is. Accidently, of course.

Dean's doing his best, pale imitation of a glare when she says, "I know you're enjoying your little double drip with your old friend, but  _Sam's_ in there and I  _really_ don't want to see him head back to Hell yet. Not when Crowley's still playing Communist ruler downstairs and you two make up a collective Public Enemy Number One."

Really, she can't believe it takes  _Hell_ to get Dumb and Dumber moving, but they are now and she guesses that's what matters.

 

 

"That was really you, wasn't it?"

At some place down the street, Dean is making her a couple false IDs and glowing resume after signing out Sam under the grounds of "you let my brother be electrocuted, pretty sure you should be happy I'm not suing you," and she signed Castiel in using another vessel. Now she's helping her failed salvation button his shirt because the Winchesters don't own anything but plaid. "Knew you'd get it eventually."

He still looks a little dazed and she wonders if this cure will work as well as the boys seem to think it will. Or hope anyway. "Why?" he asks as he finally drops his hands and lets her do the last few buttons. She feels like a Fifties housewife. "Why are you helping us?"

"Because running from the King of Hell is a lot more difficult than I make it seem, and a crazy angel is still an angel," she answers, which is dodging the real question she feels no desire to answer with Dean still so close by. "Enjoy your half baked sanity while you can, moose."

Before he can say anything, Dean comes back with the proper paper work, ready to take his brother away. As they leave, Sam lightly touches her shoulder. "Thanks, Meg," he tells her and she'd forgotten how warm his eyes are. They're hellfire and sunshine wrapped into one, half human and half demon and Hell's messiah that never was. "I mean it."

Dean gives him an odd look but then they're gone, leaving Meg alone with an empty head, demons on her ass, and Clarence gone insane. She wishes she could hate them.

 

 

Taking care of Cas isn't as bad she thought it would be, she finds. They have a lot in common, for one. He knows what it's like to love your divine father enough to do anything for him, even rebel. The Apocalypse taught them a lot about themselves and the aftermath was worse. Now that he's nuts, he's cut off from Heaven's radar, which means he knows what it's like to be alone in your head, too. And that's enough to make a crazy person even crazier.

A week after she gets her job, she finds herself in his room, legs propped against the edge of the bed with her ankles cross, nose deep in a Jane Austen book that she's also not supposed to like (she's be around since long before  _Pride and Prejudice_ was even written and has no excuse for not reading it until now). Castiel informs her that assisting an angel in any manner makes her conspicuous and asks if she is trying for redemption. She's just reached the part where Mr. Collins proposes to Elizabeth.

"Redemption?" she repeats, glancing over the top of her book. "Sorry, sweetheart, but demons don't do redemption."

He tilts head to one side, which reminds her painfully of Lucifer, and says, "But you want to be saved."

She shuts the book and takes her lunch break.

 

 

Not long after, he goes to sleep and doesn't wake up. The only reason she knows he's alive is because she can still see his wings, black fathers wrapped tightly around his prone body. Because she said she would, she calls up Dean to let him know. They talk. Before they hang up, she asks how Sam is doing.

After a moment of hesitation, Dean says, "He's all good now - it's just Meg, Sammy. Call me when he wakes up." They end the call.

Clarence keeps sleeping and she starts on  _All Quiet on the Western Front._ For the first time, she wonders who she used to be.

 

 

They're standing in the hospital hallway because the Winchesters are assholes and she knows their angel will come with her if she calls. And after so long of her frustration building, it finally comes out. A tidal wave of emotions she's not supposed to have.

"Oh, no," she says, and Sam is staring, "no, no,  _no_ , you are  _not_ allowed to keep me in the dark about this. I've been good to you boys and you  _still_ owe me."

"Fine, I'll tell you," he says, "but you keep saying I owe you and I have no idea what you mean."

Her hands are shaking. "Because I'm inside of a fucking mental hospital on the run from the King of Hell and that's all your fault," she answers. "You  _promised_ me and your memories are too gone for you even know what I'm talking about. You promised you'd help me and now you don't even trust me even though I'm the one demon in the world with enough common sense to ask for help. Father's dead, Lucifer's dead - all because of you and I'm being hunted as the only competition, alone. So yeah, you owe me,  _Sammy_ , and you're a fucking asshole for not remembering me."

He's openly gapping at her, here in this deserted hallway of an asylum halfway between Nowhere and Go Fuck Yourself, Indiana. Then something in his eyes soften and she can feel him give when he says, "Yeah, you're probably right. I don't remember, but I guess it is at least partially my fault. We're hunting Leviathan. They want to eat America."

"You mean the real life versions of  _The Blob?_ " He nods. "Ooo, I'm shivering from fear."

Then there's a crash from inside the room and the Winchester boys make life too complicated.

 

 

Sam lets her out before Dean gives his say-so and Cas explains the blood on the blade isn't human. She steps out, feels the pull form the edge of the trap, and is in line with the Crowley-declared moose who she still thinks is actually an overgrown puppy. He's sitting and she's standing and they're the same height. Until she's next to him, she tends to forget how small her body actually is.

They say they've got a positive hit on what they need to kill Dick Roman, ooze-monster extraordinaire, and agree to call her when they're ready. She knows it's probably suicide and completely counterproductive to work with them, but agrees to do it anyway. Honestly, she's just tired. Tired of running and having to slip around unnoticed in an effort to hide, of gradually adopting this ragtag group of three into something of her own, of caring about the human who ruined her life so much that she can't stand the idea of him going down into this new Hell. So, she's going to work to save a world she was willing to die for the destruction of not three years ago.

Before she leaves, she sends Sam a look to let him know she's counting on them not to screw her over. When he nods, she knows he understands, and goes on a day trip to an olive orchard in Israel.

 

 

"Enjoy readjusting the seat, big boy," she tells Dean as she slips inside the car. She hasn't driven one like this since she possessed a housewife named Maggie in '59 and took a road trip from Jersey to California for the Hell of it before dropping her permanently in Hollywood. Marilynn's body fits her better and the girl mellowed out in the end, too. 

"Hey, we kill Dick and I'll do it with a smile," he answers, but doesn't look entirely enthusiastic. Sam keeping him on an alcohol-free lockdown for the past twelve hours probably contributed. "Ready to put the son of a bitch where he belongs, Sammy?"

He nods and shoots a look at Meg. "Try not to bust up his baby too much," he says with an imitation of a smile, "or he'll probably kill you anyway." And his gaze is steady, tone calm, but being inside his head means she knows him nearly as intimately as Dean and what he’s really saying is,  _Don't die._ She nods, shuts the door, and waits for them to get out of sight before putting the car in drive and slamming on the gas.

 

 

Twenty minutes later and she's on the ground. Crowley wised up for once, sent two demons considerably older than her who, with combined efforts, add up strong enough to hold her down. She hates the King of Hell and maybe even herself too, but she's run out of energy to hate anyone else. And that's a little sad.

 

 

**The Bathroom of Room 304**

Apparently Crowley thought ahead because he keeps her on Earth rather than bring her to Hell where she'd be able to kill him without a special weapon. Instead she's tied to a radiator in a rundown hotel room, the binding covered in devil's traps. The body is hers which means every hit hurts worse than it should and the only thing keeping her alive is the demon blood running through her veins. A week in, she bows her head, closes her eyes, and prays for Castiel.

No one comes. Three days later she finds out the outside of the bathroom is heavily warded against angels. She doesn't try again, after that.

 

 

"If you're waiting for saving, whore, you're wasting your time," Crowley tells her one day, wiping blood from his hands while she quietly struggles to breathe. Now that Marilynn isn't in here with her, it's harder to keep the body alive. She doesn't answer, but he continues anyway, "Squirrel and your lover boy followed exploding Dick into Purgatory, and Moose..." He half turns his head to her and smiles. "Well, Moose lasting long without his second half is rather doubtful, wouldn't you say?"

She stares up at him, face blank and keeps it that way, even when he moves forward and grabs her chin. He says, "I'll have you chatting away the day soon, darling."

But she stays silent, long after he leaves the room and his lackeys keep guard outside.

 

 

On a Thursday, he changes her hair color. She thinks he picked the day on purpose. 

"What I don't understand," he's saying and she's starting to lose track of what’s going on after being stuck here for so long, "is why you refuse to give up the location of the crypts when Lucifer is already dead, or why you keep loyal in the first place. You know he was planning on annihilating us."

"He was our creator," she answers and wonders, not for the first time, if she picked up some of that Fallen angel bit from her father somewhere along the way. "I would die endlessly for him before bowing to you."

Sighing. She's really, really grown to hate sighing and considering what she is, that's a pretty big accomplishment. "See, this is what I mean. You cannot  _possibly_ think you're equipped to run Hell when you're willing to go on a suicide run for an angel," he says and she rolls her eyes. "This is the reason I was able to take the position and you were left behind. It's simple Darwinism."

"Loyalty is a virtue, you incompetent cereal mascot. I guess you missed the memo."

"We're demons; we aren't supposed to have virtues. I guess you missed the memo, whore."

 

 

She's been keeping a tally on the bathroom wall with her nails. It's been almost a year and she's thinking of a way to crack without actually cracking.

Or, at least that's what she's doing when Crowley finally drops the bomb of, "Do you ever wonder what you did to land yourself on the rack, Micheline?"

Unsurprisingly, the name hits her hard because names have  _power_ \- even enough power for her to remember and she has no desire to know the truth about herself. The past is basic; it's the present that matters, and her present is the knife on the end table, specially designed to skip the body and carve into the soul, or a demon's true form. A stolen weapon from Heaven. "Why?" she answers, raising an eyebrow. "I never took you to be fond of the self-discovery path of life."

"The idea is unappealing, but who am I to deny your right to know?"

"Fine, I'll bite. What was my deal?"

He pours himself another glass of his favorite drink. "Oh, there was no deal to be made," he says, taking a sip, "but you were quite the celebrity. I had been there nearly two thousand years, so naturally I heard right away. Azazel's daughter, placed on Alistair's rack so her father could watch her break. Breaking an innocent soul isn't terribly trying, though you know  _all_ about that."

"Oh, now I know you're lying. Me, innocent? A little too Shakespeare for me."

"Azazel possessed Blanche of Burgundy after she married the king of France," he explains, "and he was the only one who believed her story of possession. They named you Micheline after Michael, I hear - appease the archangel so your damned soul wouldn't end up where it belonged. Not only where you illegitimate, but also a woman and later forgotten by history, leaving your father-by-marriage without a male heir. Your birth helped spark the Hundred Years' War and you went downstairs because you had demon blood in your veins. The innocent antichrist, so much like your precious pet moose."

He's lying, she thinks. He has to be lying. "Is that so?"

"You must admit you always had that nagging doubt of who you are. Perhaps that's why you spend four months simply conversing with Moose."

"You're not getting Sam Winchesters soul.”

As he finishes his craig, he tells her, "No need to worry about that. No one wants your puppy dog's twisted soul," and she comes to the horrible realization that she just outted herself.

 

 

"Fine, fine! There's one outside the Athenian Hell's Gate!"

Crowley pets her bloody blonde hair. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it, love?"

"Stop touching me, you fucking freak."

He doesn’t listen.

 

 

"Lying isn't very nice." When she spits out the blood that gathered in her mouth, she misses his face and hits his shoulder instead, red dribbling down the fabric. "You whore! Do you know how impossible it is to get blood out of a suit?"

Smiling is easiest, so her mouth quirks up into something similar. "When I get out of here," she says, "I'm tying you to a rack. And the first thing I'll do is kill your tailor and burn all of your suits right in front of you. Then I'll mix the ashes with craig and use the alcohol as fuel to light this body on fire."

That wipes the smirk straight off his face. "Big talk, darling, though I think you'll have trouble delivering."

"Patience is a virtue too, Crowley. Guess that innocence is still leaking through and I have all the time in the world."

 

 

Over a year has gone by, and Crowley pulls up a chair in front of her, taking the seat. "Squirrel is back from Purgatory, as I'm sure you wanted to know," he says, folding his arms over the back, "and today I saw him. Your imaginary boyfriend was there too and I must say, he's looking a little worse for wear these days."

"Try Tuxedo Park in New York," she says dully, putting her head back against the wall and thinks that if Sam and Dean are back as the dynamic duo, Clarence must not be too far behind. "In the graveyard, I think."

After Crowley leaves, she prays to Cas again and tells him where the demons will be.

 

 

"It was an old orchard! Try the old orchard! And for the love of Tartarus, stop touching me!"

Crowley stops touching her.

 

 

**The Final Stretch**

Considering the number of updates Crowley's been giving her on the Three Musketeers here and how Sammy baby is, in fact, trying to find her, seeing the Winchesters in the doorway doesn't exactly catch her by surprise. If there's one thing she's learned about them, once Sam and Dean put their minds to something it's bound to happen. Even finding the demon that killed their friends.

She can't help but smile at the sight of them. "Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?"

Then Sam's on his knees, knife out and cutting the binds on her wrists and ankles and Dean doesn't even look annoyed. Big change from last time. "Can you walk?"

"Just help me up."

And he does, grabbing her hands and pulling to her feet. Getting over to the bed takes a lot of stumbling and it's the farthest she can go. The moment following her sitting down on this  _wonderful_ mattress is awkward, the boys taking up seats in front of her and Clarence standing with his arms crossed. There's something wrong with his wings. Her face feels swollen. Dean says, "So, I've got to ask, what's up with the hair?"

Oh, for the - of all the fucking questions. Even his brother looks at him like he's crazy. "Thanks for noticing, Dean," she says, "but this wasn't my idea, it was Crowley's, and it's just another reason I want to stab him in the face."

"Wait," Sam cuts in, looking a little disappointed, "you've been telling Crowley the location of the Lucifer's crypts."

"What can I say? I need a break from the constant torture. And I did visit them during all my time with Yellow-Eyes."  _Your birth helped spark the Hundred Years' War._ Fucking asshole. Most demons go for the minor leagues for a reason. She looks to Castiel, "So have you been hearing me or is this just typical Winchester luck that they found me?"

Sam glances back and forth between the two of them. "You prayed?"

"Someone needed to stop Crowley and my hands were too tied to do it - literally."

Scrunching up his nose, Clarence says, "You've been lying to them," which she thought was obvious.

"I just get them in the ballpark and enough's changed that they bought it."

Dean asks, "Why lie?"

"By myself some time, dummy," she answers, even though she's relatively sure that wasn't what he meant. "Try to find a way to get free."

Disappointing Sam still hits her harder than it should. She can also see that Crowley's probably right about him, because he really does seem worse than the last time they saw each other. "So what've they found?" Cas says, which gives her a good excuse not to look at him. 

"Bupkis. Helps that someone's been picking up the trail and icing demons. I'm assuming that was you, Castiel."

"Yes, I heard you."

"Well, he keeps sending more. He's hell bent on finding the angel tablet."

Something's wrong; she can see that instantly. Sam and Dean are here  _with_ Castiel, which means they should know. Both boys turn to stare up at their friend. All she wants is to be out of this room. Sam says, "Did you just say...angel tablet?"

Yeah, something's seriously off. Dancing compass level off. "Yes, angel tablet. Crowley found out Lucifer had it, figured it's stashed in a crypt."

They still aren't looking at her, focused on Cas. What the fuck did she just walk herself into now? "This is news to me as well. The demons I interrogated - they must be lying about their true intentions."

"Really?" Dean says. "Because I saw you  _Zero Dark Thirty_ that demon. You were  _more_ than persuasive."

The tension on the three of them is getting thrown off in waves and it takes her a moment to realize Sam's looking at her, not Cas. "Both of you are missing the point," she says. "I've been lying to them so they've just been digging but they'll be back soon. So who's up for fleeing?"

"She's right," Sam says quickly. "We need to find those crypts before they do. Meg, you're the only one who's been there."

And sometimes she hates herself because somewhere in this black, black heart of hers, she can't say no to him. After what Crowley told her, it's only gotten worse. There's a reason she liked staying the dark about who she was. "Any of you dummies got a map?"

 

 

Half an hour later, they know the location and she's upstairs with Sam as he bandages her wrist. "He had you this whole time?" he asks and she nods. "Jesus, no wonder Kevin didn't know where you were."

"You looked for me?"

One half of his mouth tilts up. "I guessed you were with Crowley but wasn't sure and knew he took Kevin. And Dean and Cas were in Purgatory so...well, my attention was split unevenly."

Crowley made it sound like Sam hadn't been looking for her at all. She should've known not to believe him because whatever he says usually means the opposite. "You're also seeing pink elephants again," she says, and it isn't question.

"How'd you know?" Her whole body is out of whack and the alcohol isn't taking the edge off. One thing she hates about being a demon: how damn hard to is to get drunk. 

"Because about six months ago, Crowley said you were looking 'a little worse for wear,'" she answers. "Connecting the dots aren't all that hard." She pauses, then adds, "Does Clarence seem...Tweety Bird to you?"

He pushes up her sleeve, applying disinfectant to a scrap on her arm. "Yeah, I noticed. Did you really pray to him?"

"Felt disgustingly clean about it, but it seemed like my best chance."

It seems like he's about to say something else, but then Dean and Cas are there and they're off to save the world again.

 

 

"When we found Kevin, he said he never saw you," Sam tells her suddenly as he spray paints warding symbols on that wall. "I thought Crowley brought you back to Hell."

She twists around to look over at him, surprised because she hadn't expected him to talk after Cas dropped that bomb over them. "No ruby red slippers to slap together. But you know all about that, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy."

"Why? I thought we were bestest friends."

Though he rolls his eyes, his mouth still twitches. "Whatever, Meg. And...I'm sorry snapping at you earlier."

Even though it hadn't done much more than annoy her (she understands, having seen enough of their lovers' spats by now), she acts offended anyway. After being held captive and tortured for over a year, it's refreshing to show emotion; she’s given up acting like a normal demon. "I think I'll have to revoke your  _Winning London_ privileges for hurting my feelings."

Now he really does smile, dimples coming out and this is the first time she's that sort since, well, Jake stabbed him in the back. And it’s still all sunshine and hellfire with him, bending around his mouth and eyes. "We're closing the Gates," he says, and he's purposely avoiding eye contact. "You know, slam Crowley in. Maybe running off to London isn't such a bad idea."

"Oh, I'll be slammed in either way, Your Highness," she says and the way he cringes isn't the normal  _that's a really shitty nickname, Meg_ reaction he typically has. "Give me an angel blade though, and I'll be happy. Crowley and I should have some  _special_ therapy time together before I gank him."

He adds absentmindedly, as if he's not really hearing her, before he turns around and says, "Whatever these trials are doing is making me - I don't know, remember things. Which means I remember Hell...and I remember you. Just, didn't know how to say it, I guess."

"How much?"

"Uh, everything I think. Including your, you know, happy birthday." He chews his bottom lip and adds, "I wish I'd remembered to begin with. Would've saved both of us a lot of trouble."

"Yeah," she answers, floored by the idea that seven years later he finally gets. "Yeah, it really - dammit, we've got company."

Suddenly Crowley's there and something in her brain just clicks to  _fuck it._ "Very touching, Moose, you sure know how to make a woman swoon," he says, stepping forward. "You didn't really think those would keep me out forever did you?"

Though Sam tries to step forward too, she positions herself in front because he isn't look so good right now and injured or not, she's still a demon. "No, not really," he answers. "Just long enough for Dean and Cas to get the tablet and get back."

"Castiel. So that's who's been poking my boys and not in the sexy way." His eyes move away from her, over to Sam. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Moose. For what you did to my poor dog."

Whatever he's talking about is lost on her, but she's sick of being the odd one out and wants to get this over with, so she says, "You just going to talk us to death, or are you going to get down to it already?"

"There's my whore." He's still focused on Sam when he says it, but quickly moves back to her and she needs this to end already. Sam remembers her, the Winchesters are planning on closing off Hell, and she trusts them to at least off Crowley so she'll do what she can in the meantime, she figures. "I'm not here for my dearly departed, though. I'm here for the stone with the funny scribbles on it."

"That's not going to happen."

"Love it when you get all tough -"

"What do you know, Crowley, we have something in common." She smirks and his attention is again diverted. "Go," she adds to Sam because this is her, doing what she can. "Save your brother...and my unicorn."

As she watches him leave, she hopes he realizes what she meant. When she sees his face a few minutes later, the sword through her chest and Dean speeding away, she knows he did. That matters, in its own way.

And to her, maybe that's even enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, you guys can leave prompts too. It's not like I have anything better to do over the next few weeks.


End file.
